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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182194">talent</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jirin/pseuds/jirin'>jirin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Embarrassment, First Kiss, Flirting, M/M, bartending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:07:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jirin/pseuds/jirin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Riddle pays a rare visit to Mostro Lounge, expecting little more than a quick errand--simply a few documents for his studies. He doesn't expect to stay very long, and he's certainly not expecting to try anything new, but perhaps he should know better by now that things never work out quite the way he wants when Floyd is involved.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Floyd Leech/Riddle Rosehearts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Shipoween 2020 - The Halloween Ship Exchange!</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>talent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/tempt/gifts">tempt</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi giftee! I hope you enjoy the fic. From your prompts, I took <em>Floyd surprises Riddle with unexpected competence (cooking, magic, Monstro lounge, etc.)</em> as inspiration. I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The entrance outside Mostro Lounge is quiet and unassuming—just a single podium, unattended for the last few minutes as Riddle waits stiffly, feeling somewhat out of place. He resists the urge to peer into the faint glow of the lounge. Somewhere inside, out of view, he can hear the murmur of voices and laughter, interrupted by the occasional clatter of glassware. </p><p>Riddle clears his throat, for the second time, a little louder than the first when he’d arrived. This time, it doesn’t take long before a familiar face appears, peering at him in mild curiosity, and Riddle blinks, surprised. </p><p>“Eh? Goldfish-chan, what are you doing here?”</p><p>“Ah, Floyd.” Riddle crosses his arms over his chest. Experience taught him it was best to be on his guard. Things had a habit of turning upside down when Floyd was around. “Hello, I...didn’t expect to see you here.” </p><p>Floyd tilts his head. “Huh? Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?” </p><p>Riddle eyes Floyd. To be honest, he’d been expecting Jade or Azul, really. That being said, he’ll admit that it’s a strange sight seeing Floyd out of his usual school uniform. Gone is the messily buttoned vest and untucked shirt; instead, Floyd looks tidy and smart, with a pressed blazer and silk shirt buttoned correctly for once, if still a little low. A grey shawl drapes neatly over his shoulders. Such a contrast to the Floyd he sees in class.  </p><p>“Do we have a new guest, Floyd?” another voice asks—this time softer, and more restrained. Seconds later, Jade approaches the podium, lips curving into a smile when he sees Riddle. “Riddle-san, what a surprise. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of your patronage before.” </p><p>“I’m afraid that’s not—” Riddle begins, but Floyd interrupts with, “Yup! Goldfish-chan’s come to visit, isn’t that fun?” paying no mind to the annoyed glare Riddle levels at him. </p><p>Jade pauses. “Hmm. How interesting.” His gaze lands on Riddle, searching him briefly. “Why don’t you let me handle this for now, Floyd? I believe table eight is waiting for their order.”</p><p>“‘kay.” Floyd spins on his heel, disappearing back into the lounge with only a wave back towards them. “Don’t leave without saying bye, okay?” </p><p>“Welcome to Mostro Lounge, Riddle-san,” Jade says, when Floyd is gone. “I must say, it’s rather unusual to see you here. Especially so late into the evening; we don’t usually have guests arrive at this hour.” </p><p>“Yes, well, as I was <em>attempting</em> to say.” Riddle doesn’t bother to hide the faint impatience from his voice. He’d only intended this to be a quick errand. “I’m not here to visit the lounge. I’m looking for Azul. I have a small request to collect on. A copy of some documents for my studies.”</p><p>“Azul?” Jade raises an eyebrow, but if he’s surprised, he recovers quickly. “Of course. Please, come with me.” </p><p>Riddle follows Jade through the entrance, and the low-lit, moody atmosphere of the lounge envelopes him like a heavy cloak. When his eyes adjust to the darkness, a tastefully decorated space greets him. Small groups of students sit and chat on the sleek black sofas nestled around low tables, each decorated with pale pink lamps atop the low tables. Overhead, jellyfish-like tendrils of light hang from the ornate chandeliers, glittering with an almost eerie light, while the enormous aquarium wall casts a watery glow across the whole space. Impressive, though he’d be reluctant to admit it—there was the small matter of exactly <em>how</em> Azul had secured the rights to establishing this space, which Riddle couldn’t quite bring himself to approve of, even though the lounge was clearly successful. </p><p>Not quite a violation of the rules, but certainly, not the most stringent way of abiding by them, in that deal he’d struck with Crowley. </p><p>The far-side of the bar is quieter, and Jade gestures at the empty bar seats when they arrive. “Please take a seat while I fetch Azul. In the meantime, I invite you to enjoy the hospitalities of our lounge. Floyd’ll assist you if you need anything” </p><p>With a faint smile and a small bow, Jade leaves him be, and Riddle slides into the bar seat after a small pause. He glances out across the lounge again. Despite never having reason to Mostro Lounge before, it wasn’t as if he weren’t curious. He’d heard rumours whispered amongst the dormmates, though they seemed to quiet whenever he approached, changing the topic of discussion to the likes of <em>homework</em>, or <em>studying</em>. Even more so, after that incident with Ace and Deuce. </p><p>Well, perhaps that sort of thing was to be expected, given his role as Prefect. </p><p>Mostro Lounge seemed to be enjoying a quiet night, though. He spots Floyd easily enough, leaning over the tables closest to the front of the aquarium. He’s speaking with the guests at the table too quietly for Riddle to hear, but the smile he wears service-perfect. Safe in the knowledge that Floyd couldn’t pester him at the moment, Riddle lets his gaze linger. Including Floyd, he could only count one other waiter flitting between the tables and deep-seated sofas. Were they short-staffed? It wasn’t like the pace of service was struggling though. He watches as Floyd straightens, signalling for the other waiter to take over for him. Then Floyd turns to the bar—towards <em>Riddle</em>—and as their eyes meet, the grin on Floyd’s face stretches into an expression more mischievous. </p><p>Riddle stifles a sigh, steeling himself.</p><p> “Goldfish-chan,” Floyd singsongs, when he gets within hearing distance. “Jade sat you at the bar seat, I see.” </p><p>“...I presume it’s the quietest place to wait for Azul.”</p><p>“Eh? But isn’t it because you’re small? The bar seat is a high chair, after all. But see, your legs dangle so far from the ground—are you going to be okay getting back down?”</p><p>“I’m not some sort of child—” Riddle shoots an annoyed glare at Floyd, before breaking off. Nevermind that his feet do feel rather uncomfortably far from the ground. “Just leave me alone, please,” he says instead. “It’s late and my business is with Azul, not you, so if you’d please—” But then Floyd shoves a small pamphlet in front of Riddle’s face, cutting him off. He stares blankly at the unassuming white-grey paper. “What is this?” </p><p>“A menu, <em>obviously</em>. So you can order a drink.” </p><p>“A drink?” Riddle echoes. He shakes his head. “I’m just waiting for Azul, so I’m not interested in a—” </p><p>Floyd waves the pamphlet more emphatically. “Azul’s kinda busy right now, he’s gonna take ages. So, you might as well have a drink, right? Which one d’you want? You gotta pick. Ah, I can give you recommendations if you can’t choose.” </p><p>“Are you even listening to me?” Riddle leans away from the pamphlet, which is beginning to hit his nose, and tries to pin Floyd down with an irritated glare instead. It doesn’t work; he has to smack away the pamphlet to speak properly. “I’m <em>not</em> thirsty, and I really don’t intend to be waiting that long—” </p><p>“But it’s part of the rules, goldfish-chan.” Floyd spreads open the pamphlet and pushes it towards Riddle again, albeit more carefully this time. “Didn’t Jade tell you? We don’t like people loitering in the lounge, so you gotta buy a drink.” </p><p>Well. Riddle slowly takes hold of the pamphlet, and glances down at it. A large selection of drinks are listed down the page, all written with the fancy flourish of dark ink. He narrows his eyes, scanning the list. “Are these all in accordance with school regulations on food and beverages—”</p><p>“Ah, you’re so strict, just like Azul--is it a Prefect thing, to be so lame?” Floyd waves a lazy hand. “But you don’t need to worry about that sort of thing. Everything’s above board in Mostro Lounge, <em>promise</em>.” </p><p>“Hmm.” Riddle reads through the pamphlet more closely this time, but Floyd seems to be telling the truth—there’s nothing here that would warrant concern, beyond some of the more extravagant prices listed. He looks up again, only to find Floyd pouting at him. </p><p>“You didn’t believe me? That hurts, goldfish-chan.” </p><p>“Hmph. I know better than to take you at your word,” Riddle responds, though he feels slightly mollified. He glances back down at the menu. He doesn’t want a drink anymore than he did five minutes ago, but if purchasing a drink was a rule of entry...it wouldn’t hurt to purchase a small beverage. </p><p>Only, which one? </p><p>Floyd seems to read his mind, for once, because instead of pestering Riddle to make his choice, he stretches, adjusting his shirt cuffs until his uniform is as crisp as before he’d started smacking a pamphlet in front of Riddle’s face. “Mmmm. Need to think? Take your time, take your time. I’m gonna serve some other people, ‘kay? Just call me if you need.” </p><p>And with that, Floyd drifts away to the nearest occupied table to where Riddle sits. That calm, pleasant smile reappears almost instantly, and Riddle watches, frowning. Less than a minute later, Floyd heads to the kitchen window, balancing three drinks and several napkins in hand, looking like the very picture of upscale hospitality—a warm, attentive host servicing a glamorous lounge. It was strange, how different this version of Floyd seemed to the one who’d made it his life’s mission to pester Riddle to within an inch of his life. The faint memory of being in the library, struggling fruitlessly for that one book while Floyd watched on, too delighted for his own good, flickers through his mind. Riddle sighs, pushing the memory aside. If nothing else, Floyd seemed to have a particular enthusiasm for showing up at the most inopportune times, simply to poke and prod Riddle into a reaction. </p><p>But now, even Floyd’s usual slouch is gone. Riddle squints. It’s just too different--and the longer he watches, the less sure he is, until for a fleeting, wild second, Riddle is gripped with the certainty that he must be watching Jade instead.</p><p>The moment passes of course, but the faint feeling of annoyance still jabs at him. Like an annoying wrinkle that keeps reappearing his clothing, despite having managed to press the rest of it flat and crisp. He rubs at his eyes in a futile attempt to clear his head. It doesn’t help. When he opens his eyes, the lounge looks the same—the same, moody atmosphere lit by the cool glow of the aquarium, where fronds of seaweed move serenely with an invisible current. </p><p>“Did you make up your mind, goldfish-chan?” </p><p>Riddle jolts. He hadn’t seen Floyd come back, now standing behind the bar counter—he must’ve come around the other side, while Riddle was lost in his thoughts. Floyd reaches for a clean glass in the cabinets against the wall—tall enough that even he has to stretch. He sets it down on the bar top, with a small <em>clink</em>, and hums expectantly.</p><p>“A drink... Riddle says , drawing a blank. He flounders, staring down at the menu to buy himself some time. “Hmmm.” </p><p>“You’re taking too long,” Floyd complains, before tilting his head. “What if I give you a recommendation—oh, a surprise! That’ll be fun. You trust me to surprise you, don’t you?” </p><p><em>No, I don’t</em>, Riddle wants to retort, but he can already see the sullen scowl forming on Floyd’s face. Pointing it out once in a day was probably more than enough. He relents. “I...I suppose you’d have a good sense of the drinks here.” </p><p>“I’ll make something special, just leave it up to me,” Floyd promises, looking more gleeful than usual, and Riddle wonders if he’s just made a terrible decision. But it’s too late; already, Floyd has set about mixing several drinks today. He works quickly, seizing hold of several mysterious bottles from beneath the counter—one with a strange, swirling mix of pink and purple, and another the shade of poisonous green—before being poured into a mixing canister with little more than a swift tilt. </p><p>Mere moments are all it takes for Floyd to wipe the bar counter down, slip a coaster in front of Riddle, and place the finished drink neatly on top. Ice clinks gently against the glass with the motion. “Here, here. Taste this, goldfish-chan. Tell me what you think.” </p><p>Riddle reaches out and gingerly takes a small sip, and half-expecting something to jump out of the drink in front of him. But the drink is simply sweet and cool on his tongue. The taste of berries and lime, mixed with the barest tinge of bitterness from the tea. He pauses, lowering the glass, surprised. </p><p>“It’s….good,” he utters, impressed despite himself. Another sip, savouring the flavour this time. “Which drink is this?” </p><p>Floyd jabs his finger to the name of a drink about two-thirds down the menu—but he sweeps the pamphlet away before Riddle can look properly. “Not really important,” Floyd tells him flippantly, and instead he leans over the bar to rest his head on his propped up arm. His gaze focuses on Riddle with a bright-eyed intensity, seemingly content to watch him drink. “So. D’you like it?” </p><p>“..as I said, it’s good.” </p><p>“Yeah, but what’s good <em>about</em> it? Tell me, tell me. I made it special for you, y’know?” </p><p>Riddle takes another sip. “Well, I didn’t expect you to make something <em>this</em> good,” is what he eventually says. </p><p>“Eh? Why do you sound so surprised! That’s mean, goldfish-chan.” There’s a pout forming on Floyd’s mouth again, etched deeper than the last. Floyd’s gaze lowers momentarily, down to the drink in Riddle’s hands, then flicks back up to his face. “I’m good at some things, dontcha think? Everyone’s got things they’re good at.” </p><p>“...Yes, well.” Riddle peers into his drink, distracted—it really is quite good. He wonder if he could ask Trey to replicate it. Otherwise, he suspects he might be tempted back into Mostro Lounge some time soon; idly, he wonders if there might be a quieter area, where he can study at the same time. “It’s only natural we all have different strengths.” </p><p>“Huh.” Floyd blinks owlishly. “So, what else do you think I’m good at then? You owe me after thinking so badly of me—that’s twice you’ve been mean to me today, y’know. So, what else do you think I’m good at?” </p><p>A frown. “Annoying me.” </p><p>“What a weird thing to say! But you think I’m good at it right?” There’s a small, secretive smile on Floyd’s face. “Right?” </p><p>Riddle frowns; why does he feel like he’s just said the wrong thing? “Yes, that’s what I said—”</p><p>“So, I should do it more right, if you think I’m good at it?” Floyd says, lightly, and Riddle splutters into his drink. </p><p>“That’s definitely <em>not</em> what I meant—” </p><p>“Eh, but are you sure goldfish-chan? You actually like it, don’t you?” Floyd watches Riddle with that same unblinking attention, chin still resting in his upturned hand. His small smile has spread into a wide, lazy one with all too many teeth—as pleased as a cat stumbling across a particularly fat canary. There’s something teasing in his voice, the barest edge of a playful threat that makes a jitter of nerves run down Riddle’s spine, even as Floyd continues, “It’s okay, you can tell me. I mean, you were <em>really</em> impressed earlier when you said I was good at something, right?” </p><p>“Well, no. That—that’s not—” Riddle flusters, stubbornly ignoring the heat rising to his cheeks.</p><p>“Ah, you’re going red! It’s so funny when you when you get like this, all mad and angry and puffed up—” </p><p>Riddle feels his cheeks flush harder. “F-Floyd!” he hisses under his breath. </p><p>“See? So cute, like a little red goldfish—” </p><p>“Ah, I’ve had enough!” Riddle slams his drink down. “Why are you like this? I just don’t understand—” </p><p>A brief press of lips makes Riddle’s breath catch in his throat. Shock brings him to a freeze, locking him in place with his eyes wide. Then he shoves himself back from the touch, the heat in his cheeks abruptly intensifying into something uncomfortably, unbearably hot.</p><p>“W-what do you think you’re <em>doing</em>? Did you just—”</p><p>Floyd shrugs, as if kissing Riddle just now had been no big deal. “You were getting kinda loud for the lounge. It’s not really against the rules, but Azul says it ruins the atmosphere, so I kissed you and you got quiet, so.” </p><p><em>Oh god.</em> Hot mortification sinks its claws into Riddle in an instant, sending his heartbeat thudding loud in his ears. They’re still in the lounge, not some little bubble elsewhere—how many people must’ve seen? What would they be thinking, seeing Heartslabyul’s Prefect kissing another boy? If—If he pretends nothing is wrong, would people say anything? He fights back the urge to melt into his seat, numbly bringing his glass to his lips instead, gulping down his warming drink. </p><p>“Hey, hey, stop drinking so fast. You’re going to spill it everywhere. Is that how you usually drink tea? So messy.” </p><p>“No, of course it’s not,” Riddle snaps, affronted, even as he wipes at his mouth. He risks a quick glance around with the motion, unable to resist checking— </p><p>But nobody is looking at them. If anything, Mostro Lounge seems emptier than the last time he’d looked, with only two tables still occupied, and entirely absorbed in their own discussion. He turns back to stare at Floyd, who only meets him with a quizzical expression. Of course, Riddle thinks, with a faint pang of relief. It’s evening, after all. Mostro Lounge was surely getting ready to close. </p><p>“You look a little bit stressed, goldfish-chan.” Floyd peers at him with a faint look of concern. “Maybe you should order another drink. But anyway, so, did I get it right? Am I right?” </p><p>“Excuse me? About what—<em>no</em>, wait, what am I saying,” Riddle’s voice strangles, because that’s when the realisation comes, belatedly, that that had been his first kiss, “—<em>Floyd</em>—” </p><p>“Oopsies.” Floyd abruptly straightens up, stretching wide, and Riddle nearly jumps out of his seat. “That’s the kitchen calling. Guess it’s clean-up time already.” </p><p>Riddle blinks. “Huh?” </p><p>“I’m still on duty, y’know. Azul will be mad if he catches me slacking.” Floyd leans to the side, pointing at something behind Riddle. “‘sides, look, speaking of Azul.”</p><p>Across the lounge, Azul emerges from a doorway near the kitchen, strolling towards him—it takes a moment for Riddle to remember why he cares, and another for him to register the documents clasped in Azul’s hands. </p><p><em>Oh...yes, the research papers he’d wanted to study for Magical History</em>. </p><p>In light of everything else tonight, those documents seemed little more than an afterthought. The <em>clink</em> of a glass makes Riddle turn back around, but Floyd is already several feet away, heading in the direction of the kitchen. Riddle stares after him, the desire to demand answers from Floyd warring with the urge to pretend nothing happened. In the end, Floyd decides for him; Floyd turns around, waving as he calls back in his usual singsong, </p><p>“Bye-bye! Thanks for enjoying our lounge today. Come again soon, goldfish-chan. Don’t forget to settle your bill, ‘kay?”</p><p>The bill? With everything that just happened, a bill seems like the least of Riddle’s worries. But still—he reaches for the menu that Floyd had haphazardly pushed away earlier, searching for the drink Floyd had pointed to, nearly two-thirds down the list. </p><p>His eyes widen. <em>700 madols?</em> </p><p>Of course. He should’ve guessed. Riddle inhales deeply as he wills himself to calm down. Eventually, he exhales. </p><p>All in all, he supposes it had been a remarkably good drink—and while he might complain about the service, he couldn’t quite deny having enjoyed his evening. </p><p>(Though if Floyd thought he didn’t have a lecture in etiquette and public conduct waiting for him, very soon, he would be sorely mistaken.)</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments always appreciated!</p><p>Also, I'm on <a href="http://twitter.com/sejirin">Twitter</a> if you'd like to come talk!! (*´▽｀*)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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